A Cinderella Retelling

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  “It’s—It’s magnificent!” I exclaimed circling the carriage, the horses, the coachman, the footman, delightedly examining them from every angle.

  “Well then,” Marie cleared her throat, “enough dilly-dallying. You’ve a party to attend.”

  “But—”

  “But what? Speak up, Ella,” Marie commanded.

  I glanced down at my dress and Marie’s eyes followed.

  “Yes, of course,” she sighed. “You didn’t think I’d send you off like that?”

  I didn’t reply.

  Marie studied me, tilting her head from one side to the other. She picked at the rags that had once been my mother’s lovely yellow dress. She eyed the misplaced feather in my hair with distrust. She raised my hem and quickly looked away, even before seeing the simple shoes on my feet. She tapped her wand in the palm of her open hand, sending sparks into the air like a shower of stars.

  She aimed the wand at me. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she reassured, as she sent a spray of glittering sparks my way.

  I was too terrified to run or hide. I was too terrified to breathe. I hadn’t thought about what being transformed by magic would actually feel like and suddenly, I didn’t want to.

  It was over almost as quickly as it began. The magical sparks dimmed through the mask that suddenly appeared over my eyes. Breathlessly, I reached up to feel the curving feathers which helped shield the true color of my eyes. I looked down, seeing the kingfisher’s colors imitated in the silken shine of a beautiful sea-green gown interlaced with ocean blues. A long, layered tail of the same kingfisher feathers cascaded down the back of my dress. Little jewels of emerald green and cobalt blue were stitched across the dress so it shimmered, even in the moonlight. I lifted my hands to find green gloves up to my elbows, so soft I almost couldn’t feel I was wearing them. I raised a hand to feel the perfect ringlets that had taken over my hair. Lifting my skirts, I found my battered shoes replaced by lovely green heels decorated with crushed gems like sequins.

  “I—it’s—what—I feel like a princess!” I finally blurted out.

  “Most appropriate for winning the heart of a prince,” Marie declared.

  “The prince?” I breathed, hardly able to speak, hardly able to process anything that wasn’t that one word.

  Would he even notice little me in the ocean of beautiful women at the masquerade tonight? Did it matter? I was going to the palace! I was going to a party with my own horse and carriage, wearing a gown made just for me! I could live one hundred years and never outlive the happiness overflowing within me then.

  I stared at Marie in wonder. “I...” I whispered.

  Marie answered with an inscrutable smile. “Just say thank you, dear,” she said kindly.

  I pulled Marie into a crushing embrace, not caring that my magical dress may crease. “Thank you, Grandmère, thank you, thank you,” I said, sending the last words over her shoulder up to Heaven itself.

  Marie hugged me back before gently pushing me away. She tapped me on the head and sent me off to the carriage. “You needn’t worry that anyone will recognize you tonight,” she reassured me.

  I laughed from exhilaration. I hadn’t even considered that anyone would ever think the Cinderwench would show up, especially not like this. If my stepmother saw me, she would have a fit, not just because I had come to the palace, but because I was bedecked in finery that far surpassed her own daughters’. There would be no end to her torment of me thereafter.

  The footman handed me into the carriage and shut the door behind me. He took up his place at the back, but before we could leave, Marie handed me my repaired invitation with some final words. “Do keep an eye on the time, Ella dear.” Her voice was so sweet I almost missed the warning. “For all the magic will be gone and all returned to how it was at three, when night is at its darkest.”

  It took me a moment to understand what she’d just said. “You’re giving me a curfew?”

  Marie smiled widely. “Someone must look after you, dear.”

  Before I could argue, she signaled to the coachman and the carriage took off. I turned to catch her waving proudly as we flew into the night. I didn’t once feel the bumpy road beneath the magical carriage, and I’m quite certain we made it to the palace in less time than we should have.

  All the way, I wavered between sheer joy and panicked fretting. If my stepfamily wouldn’t recognize me, did that mean the prince and the captain wouldn’t either? Did I want them to? Surely, neither had spared second thought to a clumsy girl briefly met by an unremarkable well who was only given an invitation as a courtesy. I much preferred they should think they were seeing me for the first time, dressed as I was. I need hardly go into detail about the irony of a masquerade being the start of what was to follow.

  Even after all these years of palace life, I still believe that no feeling can quite compare to the exhilaration of when the carriage finally arrived at the royal palace the first time. The entire courtyard was illuminated with tall, slender candles, their gentle flickers bathing the front façade in an angelic glow. Dutifully, my pumpkin carriage pulled up right to the wide row of steps leading up to the palace entrance, a thick red carpet unfurled down the center for the arriving guests.

  By that time, the courtyard had mainly settled down, with only a low murmur of footmen rearranging the rows upon rows of carriages so that any could be accessed when called. My olive-skinned footman opened the door then handed me out of the carriage. Once I descended, I stood perfectly still drinking in the reality that I could scarcely believe was unfolding.

  “Thank you,” I said, and received a silent nod in return.

  I would miss nothing; I would take in everything and carefully preserve it forever in my memories. I would taste what I could and dance with anyone who asked. Tonight was my night. Behind the safety of my feathered mask, I could be anyone but Ella the Cinderwench.

  I caught faint strains of an orchestra playing a giddy tune. With those notes, I imagined the people inside, the gowns, the masks, the glitter, the gaiety, the lords, the dukes. The prince. I sucked in a deep breath of sweet, fresh air. Everything, even the stars twinkling in the night sky, was better at the palace.

  Or so I thought then.

  “Don’t go too far,” I reminded the coachman. “We’ll be among the first to leave.”

  The coachman honked his acquiescence and drove the carriage away. This was it. Relying on years of hated etiquette lessons—for which Madame would surely condemn herself if she knew I was using them then—I squared my shoulders, straightened my back with lifted ribs, raised my chin, and glided forward as best I could.

  Invitation clutched tightly in hand, I carefully ascended the palace steps, glancing over my shoulder after every few to look once more upon the glowing courtyard. The quietude was enough to make me feel like I was the only person in the world, as if all this had been done just for me.

  I presented my invitation at the top of the stairs, standing in awe as the large palace doors swung open to admit me. A servant appeared to lead me down a long hallway lined on either side with stoic, purple-clad guards, straight to a large pair of doors at the end of the immeasurably long hall.

  There, cushioned by the soft murmur of water surrounding the island the palace sat upon, was a menagerie of exquisitely dressed creatures. The men and women in attendance had outdone themselves with sparkling costumes representing heroes of the past, bright flora, and the entirety of the animal kingdom, though some only wore intricately designed masks to cover their faces. There were masks scaled to look like dragons, elaborate headpieces for black stallions, layers of multihued brown feathers like hawks, and magnificent tufts of fur like golden lions. There were suits and gowns designed to reflect the glittering scales of fish, others were covered in bright feathers of birds, and some bloomed as rare and beautiful flowers.

  I stood at the top of a wide, stone-paved stairwell, leading down to the massive courtyard in which the masquerade was being held, mouth agape. It w
as lit up by hundreds of candles that flamed bright enough to rival the light of the full moon and shining stars above. Just before me was a large area cleared for couples dancing to the elegant refrains of a large orchestra. To my right and left little groups of people socialized and sampled the abundance of refreshments. Overwhelmed, I set a hand on the railing and leaned against it for support, careful to keep my sea-swirled gown from crushing against the side.

  Against the outer wall of the palace was a generously decorated dais with a tired, but happy looking man upon it who had to be the king. His hair had long since turned gray and he rested his chin upon his hand, content to watch the revelries unfold without being part of them. Slightly behind and to his right stood a man I was to learn was his most trusted advisor and chief castle steward, Sir Percival. Even from a distance, I could see how alert the gentleman was. Now and then, he dipped his head to whisper something to the king, who often responded with a nod or small smile.

  Speckled throughout the grounds stood soldiers bedecked in royal purple, gleaming swords sheathed at their hips, their attention perfect, their focus unwavering despite the jumble of people. I looked around for the captain, but couldn’t see him from where I stood, then thought if I could find him, it wouldn’t be too hard to guess which of the masked men was the prince. Though I was naively certain that I would recognize the melody of his voice, even within the din of the gathered guests.

  Keeping a gloved hand on the railing, I slowly descended the stairs, drinking in the entirety of the masquerade with each step that brought me closer to it. Toward the bottom, I learned that most of the food was in a room behind me whose doors had been flung wide open so it seemed they weren’t there at all. Tables and tables were laden with cornucopias of fresh fruit, whole roasted geese, puddings, and cakes and confections that surely took a town of chefs to prepare. Wine and champagne flowed in abundance, a guest’s raised hand signal enough to bring a waiter offering up a tray of selections to his side.

  But I was not to taste any of the fine food or wine that night. Rather, I would become intoxicated by something far more powerful.

  Just steps from the bottom of the staircase, my breath still held in my chest, my mind still reminding it to breathe so I really wouldn’t miss anything by collapsing from sheer joy, something happened to wrench the night out of my hands. Whatever I had imagined, whatever I could have dreamed, I could scarcely anticipate what actually occurred. I never found out who prompted the new course of my life, but I’m certain if he—or she—knew what would be, he would reverse time and never lift a hand to unsnap the mask from the person he somehow found out was the prince.

  At first no one noticed, even I wasn’t sure what the commotion on the dance floor was about. But, within seconds of the prince’s striped fur mask falling, a dark purple blur darted onto the floor and with raised sword separated him from all the others. The captain alone was not enough to stop the gaggle of women, who had one by one stopped dancing, from overpowering the prince, but everyone could sense the tension beginning to emanate from every soldier lining the courtyard. A brief second of silence fell, a silence thick enough to be tangible. Even the orchestra froze mid-chord. Something was bound to happen, but everyone was waiting for someone else to act first, to do something to signal which way the night would turn.

  Ever so calmly, with grace and patience that warmed my stilled heart, the prince bent down and retrieved his mask. His hair was slightly ruffled, but otherwise he was as perfect as I remembered him to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips tickled by a smile. Handsome and winsome, dressed in dark blue that striped through gray fur like a rare and magnificent tiger.

  As the prince stood, he looked up, and somehow, among the maze of costumed people and voluminous skirts, saw me standing on the stairs. His gaze locked on mine. My heart hiccupped then stuck in my throat. I was trapped, overpowered by his gaze and the memory of blue eyes deep enough to drown me.

  What was I supposed to do? What should I have done?

  No one else realized what was happening, not until the prince rose to his full height, dropped his furry mask on the captain’s sword, then walked straight toward me. As he walked, heads turned to follow him. Soon, everyone’s eyes were upon me.

  The prince raised his hand to signal the orchestra to start up again, but the musicians hesitated, avidly watching the object of the prince’s undivided attention with the rest of the room.

  Without warning, time stopped. This new world, my old world, every world real and imagined fell into a void. The handsome men and beautiful women melted away. Even the bright light from the candles was no longer needed. There was nothing in existence save for his Royal Highness, Prince Henri Christopher Charles Alexander walking toward Ella the Cinderwench, the petite girl with faery eyes of purple dressed like a creature of the sky.

  Then the prince was before me, his hand outstretched, asking for mine.

  My hand took his of its own accord, and he held it aloft as I walked down the rest of the stairs. I presented my best curtsy and only stood when I felt a soft finger under my chin, lifting it and me up along with it.

  “Care to dance?” he asked, introducing the tune of what would be the lullaby of my life for the next few years.

  I’m sure I blushed furiously. “It would be an honor, Your Highness,” I demurely replied.

  “The honor is mine,” the prince said smoothly, his lips parted in a wide grin to show off his dazzling white teeth.

  He raised our joined hands out to the side, placed his other with a feather’s touch on the edge of my back, just under the arm resting on his shoulder. I was dimly aware that a slower melody had started, dimly aware that as he swept me onto the dance floor other couples slowly took the music back up, as well. But all that receded into insignificance. I was dancing with the prince. I was dancing. With the prince!

  “It is quite unfair that you still wear your mask when mine has been removed,” the prince finally said to me, after a few minutes during which I hoped he’d needed to catch his breath as much as I.

  “The invitation specified this was to be a masquerade, Your Highness,” I said nervously.

  “Yes, but now you have the advantage of knowing who I am,” he frowned, though his eyes still smiled. “Have I met you before, at court?”

  I was glad of being spared the need to lie. “No.”

  “Will I?” he asked hopefully.

  “Maybe,” I replied, in my best attempt to be coy.

  The prince’s brow furrowed in the most adorable way. “That is hardly a fair answer.”

  “It really was wonderful of His Highness to invite so many people tonight,” I said quickly, gently steering the conversation away from my identity.

  The prince’s face lit up in a playful grin. “It is rather grand, isn’t it? When Sir Percival first suggested a party with all eligible princesses across the realms, I wanted nothing of it. I’ve met most of them and care not one bit for a single one. ‘This is about your future,’ he lectured. ‘Then why not invite the whole kingdom?’ I asked. ‘It’s their future, too.’ So that’s what he did. Sort of.”

  I giggled, and the prince’s smile grew.

  “Who is Sir Percival?” I asked. “I should thank him.”

  The prince inclined his head toward the man I’d seen whispering in his father’s ear. “That meddling oaf over there.”

  I glanced but only for a second, unwilling to take my eyes from the prince at all. “Is he always so serious?” I asked.

  “Always,” the prince confirmed. “He has no sense for fun.”

  “Perhaps I should ask him to dance with me.”

  When the prince’s grip tightened on my hand, a warm flutter passed through me. “I won’t allow it,” he said. “Tonight, you must dance with me until you can dance no more.”

  I didn’t bother to hide my pleased expression. “Now it is His Highness who isn’t being fair to others,” I teased, my confidence inspired by his partiality to me.

  “
Hang the others,” the prince replied. “It’s been decided.”

  “And if I can dance forever?”

  “All the better for me.”

  We danced the hours away, and it was the prince who tired first. I had one night to live out all my hopes and dreams, while a lifetime of this magical reality still stretched before him. It was only when we stopped that I realized it was already after two; that, as we flew around the courtyard, time had too quickly flown with us.

  “May I offer you something?” the prince asked, as he led me toward the room overflowing with refreshments.

  “I can hardly eat,” I began, but seeing the look on his face, amended, “but am sure I can enjoy whatever you bring me.”

  “A surprise then?” His eyes twinkled merrily.

  “A surprise,” I agreed.

  It was only when he made me sit that I realized how much my feet were hurting. I could feel my pulse in my toes, but after the initial awareness, I forgot all about them. I was breathless with excitement, too hyperaware of everything else to think after my person. I was at the palace. I had danced with the prince. The crown prince. The same prince who was now coming my way with two delicate chocolate swans balanced carefully in his upturned palms.

  His eyes met mine for approval, and I gave it to him with the most delighted smile I could muster.

  Before he could reach me however, two familiar forms, one blue and one green, fluttered into view. My stepsisters, in the gowns I had sewn for them with hair and makeup that I had done for them, converged upon me. Marie had said that no one would recognize me, but that didn’t keep my nerves from suddenly spiking.

  “You must forgive the intrusion, my lady,” Maybelle began, “but we had to come introduce ourselves.”

  Were they mocking? Even after what they’d just seen?

  “My sister, Calliope,” she indicated to her right, “and I am Maybelle.”

  They certainly weren’t. My own stepsisters, who only ever looked at me long enough to make my life miserable, didn’t recognize me. I truly could be anyone tonight.